- The tsunami quilt
- Sheila Rae, the Brave
The tsunami quilt:
Grandfather´s story
When I was little, my grandfather and I went everywhere, always sharing stories and discovering new places. We were the best of friends.
Each year in the spring, Grandmother would make a beautiful lei of plumeria blossoms. She would give it to Grandfather, placing it gently around his neck. Afterwards he and I would drive to Laupāhoehoe Point. He´d ease his old car down the twisting road to the peninsula and park in the grass near the ocean´s edge. We would hold hands and watch the sun dance across the waves.
We never talked much on this yearly visit. Somehow I knew it was a time and place for quiet thoughts.
Grandfather always stopped at the marble monument beside the ocean. He would let go of my hand and slowly walk up the stone steps. He would take the lei from around his neck and place it on top of the monument. In silence, he would rest a weathered hand on the stone and stare out over the waves. He would stand there for a long time watching the surf roll in.
Grandfather had been a fisherman all his life. He told me stories of the sea and ancient Hawaiian legends. Every weekend, he and the other fishermen would gather to "talk story" about the ocean. Sometimes I got to listen. The April visit to Laupāhoehoe was the only time I ever saw him so quiet.
"When you are older, Kimo, I will tell you the story of this sacred place" Grandfather promised each year. "You´ll learn why it is both a place of tragedy and a place of remembrance. For now, know that the ocean is both friend and foe. It gives, but it also takes."
In those days my family lived in a small house on the Hāmākua coast on the Big Island of Hawai´i. My father was a teacher and my mother was a volunteer at the local school. When my sisters and I weren´t at school, we caught fish or swam in the nearby stream.
As a family we laughed and played, and took many trips together. And Grandfather and I were the best of friends.
Then one day my grandfather was gone. The doctor said it was a heart attack. My father said it was a broken heart. It was just after my ninth birthday and I cried for a long time. Suddenly I felt all alone I didn´t understand.
Several days later I went to my father. "Tell me the story of Laupāhoehoe," I pleaded.
My father looked deep into my eyes. There was a sadness in his face as he spoke in a quiet voice.
"I guess you are old enough to know," he began. "Your grandfather would want it so."
"Many years ago, long before you were born, the school was down on the peninsula. The teachers´ cottages were along the shore, and all the classroom buildings were arranged around the great spread of a Banyan tree."
"One April morning the rising sun sparkled on the water as it had for thousands of years. As usual, many students came to school early and gathered along the shore. Others were playing on the baseball field. More students were still arriving by bus or walking along the road that snakes down from the cliffs above."
"Yes. On this morning he sat in the rear of the bus with his younger brother. As the bus rounded a turn in the road, some of the students in the front shouted, ´there´s no water in the ocean.´ At first your grandfather thought that it was just a joke. But then they repeated, even louder than before, ´there´s no water in the ocean!"
"Your grandfather stood up and looked. He saw that the sea had receded, far beyond the jagged rocks that encircled the tiny peninsula. As soon as the bus stopped, everyone hurried out onto the road and down to the cove. Except your grandfather. Maybe he just had a strange feeling."
"Many students, including Grandfather´s younger brother, ran down to the shore. They wanted to see this strange occurrence. Your grandfather watched from a high grassy area some distance behind the wall."
"Without warning the sea began to swell. Water rose up the shore and onto the road, not in a towering wave, but rather as a powerful surge. It caught everyone by surprise. No one could believe what they were seeing."
"The ocean receded and then rose up again. As before, a wall of water cascaded up the landscape, even higher than before. Some students, including Grandfather, ran farther away from the ocean. Others stayed near the shoreline to see what would happen next."
"The second wave retreated. Then students saw the most terrifying sight of all. It was an enormous wall of water as high as the lighthouse on the point. Suddenly everyone knew—it was the third wave of a tsunami!"
"Yes he was, because this wave was dangerous and more powerful than the first two. The wave rushed in from all sides of the tiny peninsula. The ocean churned everywhere like an enormous pot of boiling water."
"Water crashed through the cottages. The buildings were crushed and the wreckage swept out to sea. Boards, branches, and debris were scattered across the peninsula. The wave rose to the height of the coconut trees smashing everything in its way. Teachers and students were swept off their feet and out into the ocean. People were scrambling everywhere, frightened and confused. Everyone was trying to escape."
"Your grandfather ran up the road to the cliffs with all the power in his legs. He stopped and turned to see people tossed around like dolls. He stared as classmates were sucked into the ocean and beyond the shoreline. He heard their cries and screams."
"Yes, Kimo, the tsunami waves were terrible. The third wave rose more than thirty feet above sea level. It was everywhere. In the end, twenty-four students and teachers were killed."
"Yes. On that monument are etched the names and ages of the children and teachers who lost their lives that day"
"Yes, Kimo, but there is something more you must know."
My father took me outside. We climbed into his car and headed east toward Hilo. Shortly after crossing the Wailuku River, he turned the car and parked it near a large stone building. As we walked through the door I read the sign—Pacific Tsunami Museum.
Father held my hand tightly as we wound our way through the different exhibits and displays. We stopped in front of a large quilt hanging on the wall. The quilt was in bright colors of blue and yellow. I counted twenty-four squares around the border of the quilt. There was a small wave and a person´s name inside each square. In the center of the quilt was an image of a large tsunami wave. Next to the quilt was a sign. I slowly read it aloud:
"Students donate quilt to Tsunami Museum out of respect for those who lost their lives at Laupāhoehoe Point during the April 1, 1946 tsunami. Students from Laupāhoehoe Elementary and High School finished this special quilt. The quilt commemorates the twenty-four students and school faculty who lost their lives at Laupāhoehoe Point during the morning of April 1, 1946. The colors of the quilt represent the school´s colors: blue and gold. On December 19, 1997 the quilt was donated to the Pacific Tsunami Museum"
I watched as Father reached out and gently touched one of the squares. "This, is your great-uncle´s," he said.
"Your grandfather´s younger brother was one of the children swept away by the tsunami that day. Grandfather watched as he was carried out to sea by the third wave. There was nothing he could do. He was frightened and helpless. His brother was your age, nine years old, when he died," he said. "Grandfather felt all alone. He learned to forgive, but he never forgot."
I stared at the quilt and my eyes began to fill with tears. Now I understood.
The next day was April 1. My grandmother made a beautiful lei of plumeria blossoms and placed it gently around my neck. I rode with my father to Laupāhoehoe. He eased the car down the winding road to the peninsula and we parked in the grass near the small cove. In silence, I walked over to the marble monument and up the stone steps. I removed the lei from around my neck and gently placed it on top of the monument. As I did I heard my grandfather´s voice, "The ocean is both friend and foe. It gives, but it also takes."
I looked up and watched the gentle surf rolling in from the sea. Then Father and I stood together and watched the sun dance across the waves.
Tsunami is a Japanese word meaning "great wave in harbor." The word refers to a single wave or a series of waves (sometimes a dozen or more). Some people call them "tidal waves," but they really have little to do with the tides. About 86 percent of all tsunamis are the result of undersea earthquakes. An enormous earthquake off the Aleutian Islands in the North Pacific generated the tsunami that struck Laupāhoehoe on the morning of April 1, 1946.
Because of its location in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Hawai´i is at risk from tsunamis from all directions. Today the Tsunami Warning System, located on the island of O´ahu, provides valuable information to authorities and residents about earthquake-generated tsunamis. A "tsunami watch" is declared whenever a strong earthquake occurs in the Pacific Basin. A "tsunami warning" is issued to let people know that a tsunami is approaching and that they should move to a safe place.
Tsunamis can occur at any time of the day or any time of the year. They are swift and silent, dangerous and deadly, and memorable for many years after their passage.
Lei: lay
Plumeria: ploo-MIR-ee-ah
Laupāhoehoe: Lah-PAH-hoy-hoy
Hawai΄i: Hah-VI-ee
Tsunami: soo-NAH-mee
Wailuku: why-LOO-koo
Kamehameha: KAH-may-ha-may-ha
O΄ahu: Oh-WAH-hoo
Anthony D. Fredericks
The tsunami quilt: Grandfather´s story
Chelsea, Sleeping Bear Press, 2007
Sheila Rae, the Brave
Sheila Rae wasn´t afraid of anything. She wasn´t afraid of the dark. She wasn´t afraid of thunder and lightning. And she wasn´t afraid of the big black dog at the end of the block.
At dinner, Sheila Rae made believe that the cherries in her fruit cocktail were the eyes of dead bears, and she ate five of them.
At school, Sheila Rae giggled when the principal walked by. And when her classmate Wendell stole her jump rope during recess, Sheila Rae tied him up until the bell rang.
"I´m very brave," Sheila Rae said, patting herself on the back.
Sheila Rae stepped on every crack in the sidewalk without fear.
When her sister, Louise, said there was a monster in the closet, Sheila Rae attacked it.
And she rode her bicycle no-handed with her eyes closed.
"Yea! Yea! Sheila Rae!" her friends yelled, clapping their hands.
One day, Sheila Rae decided to walk home from school a new way. Louise was afraid to.
"You´re too brave for me," Louise said.
"You´re always such a scaredy-cat," Sheila Rae called.
"Am not," whispered Louise.
Sheila Rae started off, skipping.
"I am brave, I am fearless" she sang.
She stepped on every crack. She walked backwards with her eyes closed. She growled at stray dogs, and bared her teeth at stray cats. And she pretended that the trees were evil creatures. She climbed up them and broke their fingers off. Snap, snap, snap.
Sheila Rae walked and walked. She turned corners. She crossed streets.
It suddenly occurred to Sheila Rae that nothing looked familiar. Sheila Rae heard frightening noises. They sounded worse than thunder. She thought horrible thoughts. They were worse than anything she had ever imagined.
"I am brave, I am fearless." Sheila Rae tried to convince herself.
The sounds became more frightening. The thoughts became more horrible. Sheila Rae sat down on a rock and cried.
"Help," she sniffed.
She thought of her mother and her father and Louise.
"Mother! Father! Louise!" she cried. "Where are you?"
"Here I am," a voice said.
"Louise!" Sheila Rae hugged her sister.
"We´re lost," Sheila Rae said.
"No, we´re not," Louise said. "Don´t worry, everything is ok! I know the way home. Follow me!"
Louise stepped on every crack. She walked backwards with her eyes closed.
Sheila Rae walked quietly behind her.
They walked and walked. They crossed streets. They turned corners. Soon their house could be seen between the trees. Sheila Rae grabbed Louise and dashed up the street. When they reached their own yard and the gate was closed behind them, Sheila Rae said, "Louise, you are brave! You are fearless!"
"We both are," said Louise.
And they walked backwards into the house with their eyes closed.
Kevin Henkes
Sheila Rae, the brave
New York, Greenwillow Books, 1996
C H I N I O T G E N E R A L H O S P I T A L
KORANGI - KARACHI
Posted by: Stories for Everyone - AS <sg@storiesforeveryone.com>
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